CHAPTER XXV.

VOYAGE OF 1863--THE TOBACCO GARDEN MASSACRE.

[Sidenote: DISASTROUS DELAY.]

Deferring for the present our narrative of the fortunes of La Barge, Harkness & Co., we shall recount one of those mournful tragedies and one of those instances of official corruption which marked the later history of the Indian tribes along the Missouri River. When Captain La Barge, in the spring of 1863, undertook to leave the government service on the Mississippi, to get ready for his trip to Fort Benton, he was told by the Quartermaster in St. Louis that he could not have the boat, for the government had further use for it. Not having time to go to Washington to see about it, he sold the boat for twenty thousand dollars to the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad, and left to that company the task of securing its release. He then chartered the _Robert Campbell_, and, with the _Shreveport_, prepared for a voyage to Fort Benton. It proved to be a notable trip. The cargo and passenger lists of the _Shreveport_ were made up almost exclusively for the mines and for the posts of La Barge, Harkness & Co. The _Campbell_ was loaded with annuities for the Sioux, Crows, Blackfeet, and Assiniboines, together with some other freight, making a cargo of nearly five hundred tons. The _Shreveport_ got away from port in the latter part of April, but the _Campbell_ was subjected to annoying and even disastrous delay by the failure of the annuities to arrive on time. Captain La Barge, who had the contract to transport the annuities, had been ordered to have his boat in readiness on the 1st of April. The goods did not arrive, and he was held in St. Louis for forty-two days before he could start on the long journey. It was considered of the highest importance to start as soon as the ice disappeared in order that the trip, both coming and going, could be made during high water. As the year 1863 happened to be a low-water year, the delay which Captain La Barge suffered made it impossible to complete the voyage. Even on the 12th of May, the day of starting, only a portion of the goods had arrived, and the rest were taken on at St. Joseph, whither they were sent by rail.

The boat proceeded on her way, determined to accomplish the trip if it were possible to do so. The water was unusually low for that time of year, and it took nearly a month to get to Sioux City, which ought to have been reached easily in a third of the time. Owing to the great danger from guerrillas below Kansas City, a force of thirty soldiers accompanied the boat as far as St. Joseph, Mo. This precaution was very timely. Every boat that was met in the lower river reported attacks with occasional loss of life. Owing to the presence of soldiers on the _Robert Campbell_, and Captain La Barge’s precaution to anchor midstream at night instead of lying at the bank, he got through all right. At Miami and at Cogswell’s Landing parties tried to board the boat, but without success.

[Sidenote: INDIANS HOSTILE.]

Among the passengers on the _Campbell_ were two Indian agents, Henry W. Reed and Samuel M. Latta, the former for the Blackfeet tribes and the latter for the Sioux, Crows, Mandans, and other tribes in that region. Henry A. Boller, whose work, “Among the Indians,” achieved some notoriety in its time, was likewise on board, as were also Alexander Culbertson and his Blackfoot wife. In all there were some thirty passengers, and this number was considerably increased at the various landings as far up as Sioux City. The value of the annuity goods on board was upwards of seventy thousand dollars.

[Sidenote: CHEATING THE INDIANS.]

The Indians all along the Missouri above the Niobrara were at this time intensely hostile, but knowing that their annuity goods were about to arrive, they held aloof from any desperate measures until these were received. It would have been a wise thing to have sent a company of troops all the way on this important trip, but not a soldier was to be had. The boat reached Fort Pierre June 20, and here several of the Sioux bands were assembled to receive their annuities. It appears that the Two Kettles band were in a great state of exasperation over the recent killing of eight of their number by the soldiers near Fort Randall. After a considerable amount of parleying the distribution of the annuities commenced, but for some reason, which Captain La Barge never heard explained, only a portion (about two-thirds, as he estimated it) of the goods to which the Indians were entitled were put off. The Indians could not be deceived in the matter and were very angry. They went to the Captain and appealed to him to see justice done them. They had the fullest confidence in him, for they had known him for years, and he had always treated them honestly. He was now helpless, however, and could only tell them that he was under the orders of the agent and had no control whatever over the goods. They then assured him that they should follow the boat and cause it all the trouble they could, but they would not harm him if they could avoid it.

[Sidenote: REVENGEFUL SPIRIT OF THE INDIANS.]

They were as good as their word. All the way from Pierre to Union, six hundred miles, these Indians followed the boat. It is a remarkable fact, when we stop to think of it--this pursuit of a steamboat on its laborious voyage through the Western prairies, seeking at every turn to destroy it and kill its passengers and crew. There was some deep and far-reaching cause that could create and support so bitter and vindictive a spirit as this. The warning of the Indians to Captain La Barge was taken by him at its full value. The boat was thoroughly barricaded with the cargo by piling it so as to protect the vulnerable points, and all the firearms on board were made ready for use. These precautions proved to be of the highest importance. At every woodpile Indians appeared and attacked the crew. At every favorable point shots were fired into the boat. On one occasion a bullet passed through the pilot-house, barely missing the pilot, Atkins, who was at the wheel. We shall relate some incidents that occurred on the way to Union, one more comical than serious, but one tragic and deplorable as any in frontier history.

[Sidenote: THE UPRIGHT HAT.]

The _Shreveport_ had gone up the river in advance of the _Robert Campbell_, but being unable, on account of low water, to get beyond Snake Point, or Cow Island, 130 miles below Fort Benton, had discharged her cargo on the bank and had returned down the river. She met the _Robert Campbell_ at Apple Creek, thirteen miles below Bismarck, and was there stopped by Captain La Barge. A part of the cargo of the larger boat was transferred to the _Shreveport_, and the two then proceeded up the river, the _Shreveport_ being sometimes ahead and sometimes in rear. The hunter on the _Shreveport_ was Louis Dauphin, already referred to as one of the bravest men and most noted characters of the upper country. He now acted as hunter for both boats. It was his custom to go along ahead of the boat, beating up the country and securing whatever game was worth stopping the boat for. Whatever he killed, as an elk or deer, he would hang on a pole or tree near the bank where it could be seen from the boat, and would then continue his hunt. One day about noon Captain La Barge’s eye, which was constantly studying the river ahead, fell upon a curious object floating downstream. It looked like a hat, but, strange to say, was standing upright on the water, with no tendency to sink at all. It caused the Captain no little perplexity. In the windy country of the Missouri it was no uncommon thing for hats to be blown into the river, but he had never before seen one ride like that. He followed it with his glass until it was near the boat, when up it rose, securely perched on the head of a swimmer who proved to be no other than the hunter Dauphin. “I had to take to the water this time,” he said as he climbed on board. “They were too many for me. You are going to have trouble at the Tobacco Garden. The Indians are gathered there to the number of at least fifteen hundred and intend to capture the boat.” The general amusement which Dauphin’s subaqueous adventure had caused on the boat was quickly dispelled by the sad fulfillment of the predictions which he brought back.

[Sidenote: A DISASTROUS SURPRISE.]

Just above the mouth of Rising Water Creek the boats stopped to wood, and were hailed by some Grosventres (of the Missouri, Minnetarees) who offered some meat if a boat were sent out for it. These Indians, a friendly tribe, had been out hunting for two weeks and were just returning well laden with meat. The women had made some bullboats and were about to ferry it over the river. The men had meanwhile turned most of their horses out to graze, keeping only one each fastened by lariats. Some meat was exchanged for coffee and other articles and the _Robert Campbell_ resumed her voyage. Just as she was starting one of the squaws uttered a piercing scream, and the people on the boat saw a Sioux Indian riding at full speed for the Grosventre herd, brandishing a red cloth, and followed by a large body of his tribe. The Grosventre squaws took to their boats and the men to the tied horses. The _Campbell_ drew in to the bank and took men and horses on board and set them across the river. The poor Grosventres lost nearly their entire herd and all the fruits of their hunt.

[Sidenote: THE TOBACCO GARDEN.]

The name “Tobacco Garden” on the Missouri River designated the bottoms at the outlet of Tobacco Creek, on the left or north bank of the river, eighty-eight miles below the mouth of the Yellowstone. The origin of the name is uncertain, but the place has long been well known to river men. Near this point, but on the opposite shore, was a bottom, covered with large trees, but open and free of underbrush. The south bank of the river was a “caving bank,” or one that was being undermined by the river. At this time there was a very narrow beach at the water’s edge, above which the bank rose perpendicularly to a height of six or eight feet. The channel was close to the shore and a boat in passing had to come within thirty or forty yards of the bank. Even if anchored to the sandbar immediately opposite, it could not get more than sixty yards away. It was an ideal place to “hold up” a boat, and the Indians were shrewd enough to understand this perfectly.

[Sidenote: LATTA NOT AFRAID.]

It was toward noon of the 7th of July that the two boats hove in sight of the Tobacco Garden, and there, true to Dauphin’s prediction, they beheld on the south shore a large body of Indians assembled with the evident purpose of stopping them. There was no use in trying to run a gantlet like that, and accordingly the boats made fast to the opposite sandbar, the _Shreveport_ about one hundred yards below the _Robert Campbell_. A parley ensued with the Indians, who were so near that it was perfectly practicable to talk back and forth. La Barge asked them what they wanted. They said they wanted the balance of their annuities; they wanted no trouble, but simply their just dues. The agent refused them the goods, but “requested the Captain to send his yawl and bring aboard some of the chiefs and head men that we could have a talk and ... make them a present of sugar, coffee, tobacco, etc., and by this means quiet them.” The Indians likewise wanted the yawl to be sent out, but wanted the agent to go with it. They would then send their principal chiefs back with him to the boat, where everything could be talked over. They were very shrewd, and the agent almost fell into the trap.[55] The Captain told him that he could not possibly think of ordering the yawl out, considering the disposition of the Indians and their evident purpose of mischief. Latta replied: “Why, I’ll go; I’m not afraid.” “All right,” answered the Captain, “if you can get volunteers; I will not order a crew out.” They then went to the mate, Miller by name, and a crew was made up to take Latta to the shore. When the yawl was ready the Captain sent word to the agent, who had disappeared upstairs. The latter sent back a reply that he was suddenly taken ill and could not possibly go, but to send the men and bring the chiefs on board.[56]

[Sidenote: A BRAVE CREW.]

The crew of the _Robert Campbell_ were not lacking in physical courage, and the necessary force to man the yawl was easily made up. It was a little after noon when the yawl left the boat. There is no truth in the statements of Boller and Larpenteur that the men were forced to go and clung to the side of the steamer until the mate threatened to cut off their fingers if they did not let go. It was easy enough for them to get out of going if they chose to. The crew of the yawl consisted of seven men. The steersman, a gallant fellow of the name of Andy Stinger, sat in the stern. Two men of the names of O’Mally and Chris Sharky sat in the bow. There were four oarsmen, one of them a young man of the name of Martin, and the other, one of the Irishmen who had been whipped by “Yankee Jack,” as related elsewhere. The yawl put off, and as the distance was very short, it quickly reached the opposite shore. It struck the beach head on and then swung around under the force of the current, so that it lay alongside of the bank.[57]

[Sidenote: ANDY STINGER’S PRESENCE OF MIND.]

A chief and three Indians were under the cut bank on the beach when the yawl arrived. One of the Indians stood exactly opposite Stinger, with a gun in his hand covered with a leather case. The other two Indians were armed with spears. The chief was a fierce-looking man, and it seemed as if his eye would pierce one through and through. Stinger motioned him to get into the yawl. The men meanwhile were sitting quietly with their oars across their laps. The chief gave some quick directions and in an instant the two Indians with spears jumped into the boat and the one with the gun stripped the leather case off. Stinger knew what this meant, and with great presence of mind instantly threw himself into the water on the river side of the boat, where it was fortunately four or five feet deep. Slipping up along the boat he seized it by the gunwale amidships and dragged it from the bank. The movement, however, quick as it was, was not quick enough. The two young bucks who had leaped into the boat thrust their spears into the bodies of two of the oarsmen, killing them instantly. A third was killed by the Indian with the gun, who had missed his chance at Stinger, and a fourth was severely wounded by an arrow from the bank. The two men in the bow instantly threw themselves into the bottom of the yawl.

[Sidenote: BOATS RETURN FIRE.]

The Indians had no time to carry the attack further. The crews of both the steamboats were watching with breathless anxiety the progress of events. When they saw Stinger jump into the water they thought him killed. Someone exclaimed, “There goes Andy,” and instantly both boats responded with their entire armament. This included two howitzers on the hurricane deck of the _Robert Campbell_ and one on the _Shreveport_, together with weapons of various sorts belonging to the passengers and crew. One rattle-brained Irishman was so upset that he brandished his revolver in the air, firing off into space without the slightest regard as to the whereabouts of the enemy. The fire, on the whole, was very effective. Numbers of the Indians were seen to fall, and Captain La Barge afterward learned through Pierre Garreau, the interpreter at Fort Berthold, that there were eighteen men and twenty horses killed and many wounded. The Indians soon withdrew, and in about an hour some were seen trying to get water for their wounded near a pile of driftwood half a mile below. It was an intensely sultry day. The howitzers were turned on them and they disappeared.

[Sidenote: ANDY ANGRY.]

Returning to the yawl, we find that Andy Stinger, protected behind the gunwale, was steadily pulling the boat into the stream and swimming toward the sandbar as the current drifted him down. When about halfway across he called to the men to get up, while he himself climbed into the yawl, which was then rowed to the bank. The people on the two boats were so absorbed with the battle that no one thought of going to the assistance of the yawl crew. The wounded man and the two who were unharmed got out and walked up the beach. Stinger was thus left alone to drag the yawl and its mournful cargo up alongside the boat. This apparent neglect fired him to a desperate pitch, and he let go some powerful language to the mate and others of the crew. Captain La Barge presently came aft and looked into the yawl. He said not a word, but turned away shaking his head in a manner that showed plainly enough what was passing in his mind.

[Sidenote: HERO OF THE TOBACCO GARDEN.]

Such was the celebrated “affair at the Tobacco Garden.” After the return to St. Louis Captain La Barge was talking to a friend about it when Andy Stinger happened to pass by. He said, loud enough for Andy to hear: “There goes the hero of the Tobacco Garden.” The brave steersman treasured up these words as his proudest title during the rest of his life. Long years passed away before Captain La Barge heard from him again. He did not even know whether his old boatman was still alive when, in the fall of 1896, thirty-three years after the massacre, he received a most cordial and affectionate letter from him,[58] and two years later had the pleasure of meeting him again.

[Sidenote: LA BARGE’S CRITICISM.]

Commenting upon the affair at the Tobacco Garden, Captain La Barge said:

“This event was one which could not have happened under ordinary circumstances. Master of both boat and cargo, I should never have permitted the yawl to go ashore. I was under orders of the agent in everything except the mere handling of the boat, and was bound to give him such opportunities to meet the Indians as he desired. I had gone to the extreme of my freedom of action when I refused to order a crew to go ashore for him, but could not well decline to let men volunteer. It was a lamentable affair, and one of the many crimes which must ever lie at the door of the Department of Indian Affairs in Washington. Here was an agent who gave every evidence of being corrupt and in collusion with the Fur Company, for he retained about a third of the annuities due the Indians and stored them in the Company’s warehouse, from which they never reached the Indians except in exchange for robes, as in the case of private merchandise. Moreover, the agent was utterly ignorant of Indian character, full of the self-assurance which goes with ignorance, and not knowing himself what to do became the passive tool of the crafty and trained agents of the company.”[59]

[Sidenote: CHARLES LARPENTEUR.]

About 3 P. M. the boats resumed their voyage, as the Indians had entirely disappeared. On the following morning the burial of the victims took place at a point about forty-seven miles above the Tobacco Garden. They were buried on an eminence on the south side of the river nearly opposite the mouth of Little Muddy Creek, and a cedar cross was planted at the head of their grave. The boat then pursued her way up the river and arrived at the mouth of the Yellowstone on the 8th of July. Here the Indians were seen again, and a few shots were fired by them at the boats, but no injury was done.

[Sidenote: HEAVY RESPONSIBILITY.]

The herculean labors of Captain La Barge on this memorable voyage won the plaudits of all who observed them. He seemed to be everywhere present, and the only man on whom reliance could be placed. “We got to the mouth of the Yellowstone,” says agent Reed, “after the most untiring efforts, especially on the part of Captain La Barge, who seemed to know the only channel to be found in the Missouri.” The Captain was constantly exposed to danger, and personally conducted all soundings of the river, going far from the boat with a few men in the yawl. The responsibility resting upon him was very great. The lives of the passengers, the safety of his valuable cargo, the danger from the Indians if their expected goods should be lost, and his own large pecuniary stake in the voyage, all rested upon his own shoulders.